


A Sphinx, a Siren

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Humanstuck, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humanstuck. Nepeta and Feferi meet at a bar, where Nepeta is drinking with friends and Feferi is singing with her band. Then they go on a date. Romance ensues!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sphinx, a Siren

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: Alcohol use

Nepeta looks at herself in the mirror before she goes. Okay, so she won't be the prettiest girl at the bar, but she should at least look neat: no cowlicks in her short black hair, Portal t-shirt not rucked up, jeans pockets tucked in. Okay, it'll do. And her blue cat-ears hat, can't forget that. She puts it on and feels a bit more put-together. The cat hat is okay on the street and it's okay in this bar, because it's a magical, mythical place: a geek bar. In this bar, the ears make her cool.

She's been needing the night off after three exams this week, and she's meeting up with her friend Roxy. Roxy is a geek and a girl, and Nepeta can't help but look up to her. She's so confident and pretty—and okay, Nepeta had a crush on her for months after they met, but that's two years in the past now. Roxy, to put it in the girl's own words, "likes the D." It's unclear whether she meant phalluses or her longtime FWB crush, Dirk, at the time. Probably both.

It's pretty early and a Sunday, so the bar has just a scattering of people.

"Hey girl!" Roxy squeals, jumping down from her bar stool to embrace Nepeta. She's not drunk yet, she just acts like it.

"Hey," says Nepeta with a small smile. The bartender is looking at them, passively.

"I just found out this real great band is playing tonight!" the excited blond tells her, still holding her forearms. "I saw them before once, they're called, uh..."

"Cuttlefish Cullers," offers the bartender.

"Yeah, that!" She pulls Nepeta forward. "But first! Booze time, time for booze."

Nepeta orders a beer on tap, pays in cash and tips a dollar. She never drinks enough to open a tab—she'll be working on the beer for an hour. It's one of the few types she likes, now that she's gotten used to the idea and taste of beer to begin with.

The band is suggested tips only, so they sit down at a small table near the stage and chat. Nepeta complains about the tests she took this week—she's not sure she got above a C on one of them, which is basically like failing. Forty minutes and half her beer (and for Roxy, a full PBR) later, two guys show up on stage and start setting up instruments. Nepeta isn't terribly interested, only noticing anything about them because they're in her line of sight. One wears a lot of purple, is a bit sparkly, and seriously flamboyant; and the other wears black, is really tall, and has a mop of brown hair. The flamboyant one is propping up a cello or a viola, Nepeta isn't sure, and the tall one has hauled in a small drum set which clatters a bit as he sets it into place.

That's about all she notices, returning to look at Roxy as she complains about the trials and tribulations of her polyamorous lifestyle. Nepeta doesn't really get it. She just wants one girl—one is hard enough—and to settle down and do all the romantic things together. All of them. (Also maybe roleplay. In bed and out of bed.) But somehow it makes Roxy happy, and she wants Roxy to do whatever makes her happy. She follows Roxy's romantic life with great interest, cheering her on.

It's gotten more crowded in the last hour, and now most of the seats are taken. Roxy's friend Jane has shown up too, sharing a table with them, as well as a batch of cookies she'd brought. The girl loves to bake, and Nepeta has decided she's really very sweet even if she's often a bit grouchy. Jane is explaining the recipe she's just tried when the crowd hushes, and Nepeta looks up.

Her mouth goes dry at the sight of the girl in the middle of the stage, holding a microphone. She's beautiful. Her skin is the color of sunlit bronze and her dark hair falls in waves to her waist. She's wearing the best thing Nepeta has seen all day, a low-cut dress striped in magenta, black, and aqua, and her eyes are beautifully mascara'd behind her magenta-framed glasses. Her lips are shiny and pink.

"Hi," the girl says, and Nepeta smiles at the cheer in her voice, "I'm Feferi, and we're the Cuttlefish Cullers!"

Her voice is beautiful. She can really sing—she could be a rock star, Nepeta thinks, then thinks that maybe she already is. The music is unconventional, viola and drums and a voice that can go so hushed and sensual that Nepeta's breathing quickens. She hits incredible high notes, too, almost too high for Nepeta to bear; but she does it well, beautifully. When the band takes a break after their set, Nepeta is left staring at the light shining on the stage.

Roxy starts talking, then stops. She lays a hand on Nepeta's shoulder and Nepeta starts, blinking owlishly at her. "You okay, kittycat?"

"Yeah," she says. "Um." She takes a sip of beer, then a swig, draining her glass and putting moisture back in her mouth. "That singer is really hot," she whispers loudly.

Roxy laughs. "You should talk to 'er, Neps."

Nepeta shakes her head and sighs. "I just think she's hot. She's purrobably straight."

"People always assume I'm straight," says Jane, not without a touch of bitterness, "and they're wrong. You can't tell by looking at someone."

Nepeta knows that. People assume she's straight all the time, too. It's just that usually when she's into girls, they aren't into girls.

After the band's last set, the singer—Feferi, was it?—walks around collecting cash in a hat. Nepeta reaches out and shyly drops five dollars in, which is really all she can afford right now. Feferi catches her eyes and gives her a big, appreciative smile. Nepeta's heart stutters and she tries to control her breathing; Feferi turns her big smile on someone else. Nepeta blushes and looks down into her empty glass.

"Hey, singer lady!"

Oh great Bast, what is Roxy doing.

"I'm sorry, I forgot your name, but you were really great!"

Nepeta keeps staring at the bottom of her glass, eyes wide and face hot.

"Thank you!" says the singer. "I'm Feferi. I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

Nepeta glances up at her and her stomach clenches at how beautiful she is. Oh, meow-fuck.

"So, my friend here is really shy—" (oh god oh god) "—but she really wants to ask you out for coffee sometime."

"Oh!" says Feferi. "Well."

Nepeta wants to remain focused on the table but she looks up, sure her face is bright red. She stares into the singer's beautiful eyes, which are a rich, dark brown.

"Meow," she says, and oh great Bast, she didn't think her face could get any hotter. "I me-I mean, hi. Your voice is really beautiful." The singer is going to say no. She's about as embarrassed as she's ever been. She might as well gives her the compliment she deserves.

"You want to take me for coffee?" says the singer, a curious expression on her face.

"Ye-es," Nepeta squeaks out. But it's okay, it's fine you're going to say no, she means to say, or something like it, but,

"Why not?" says Feferi. "Okay, we'll go for coffee! I have some free time this week. Oh, I need to finish collecting!" She lifts the hat. "I'll come back and we'll figure out a date when I'm done."

And she does, and they do. By the end Nepeta's heart is beating so fast she can barely think, she's vocalizing her schedule and their plans out of some sort of subconscious, automatic function, and she thinks she needs another beer. Her future date leaves with her band-mates, so she goes ahead and has that second beer.

"Oh meow god Roxy, I can't furking believe you did that."

"You love me," Roxy says. "Also, you're welcome, kittycat."


End file.
